My Vietnamese Wife free porn video

It may have been my fault, or maybe the store at the mall. I’m not sure. But the bottom line is ……… if only I hadn’t gotten down like that … let me explain.

My name is Barry. I’m a average 45 years old white guy, and six years ago was lucky enough to have married a very pretty and petite Vietnamese lady who is now 28, and treats me like a king. I fell in love with her the instant I saw her. The oriental look is not to everyone’s taste, but to me she is gorgeous. Her narrowed dark brown eyes, Her laser-straight coal-black hair. Her high cheek-bones. Her ready bright smile through full lips. The sunny tone of her skin. And her petite, almost waif-like figure is built for having karma-sutra sex from A through to Z. And she loves it. We both do ……

We lived in Vietnam for the first few years of our marriage. I’d had an engineering contract there and we met by chance when we frequented the same café when she was working as a seamstress for her Mom who had a shop in the same street. When we moved back to the US a couple of years ago, she knew nothing of our culture or the way we do things. I said to her, all she needed to do was to try to anticipate my needs and do whatever she thought would please me, and I would look after her, and together we would have a great life.

She is an excellent cook and has adopted most of the ‘western’ cooking styles. One particular Saturday afternoon, she sent me to the store to buy some items for our usual lavish Sunday brunch. Most normal people have bacon and eggs or pancakes with syrup or some-such. But not at our house. My wife creates a veritable feast with about twelve different offerings on the plate. Anyways, on the list of items she asked me to buy for this week’s motley array were mushrooms, which our local store keeps on the bottom shelf. So, there I was in my shorts and t-shirt in the vegetable isle, on my hands and knees with my head buried in the depths of the bottom shelving, raking the few remaining mushrooms from the very back of the tray. That’s when I heard him speak for the first time.

“Just how I like my white-boys,” said a gravelly voice from way above my head.

“Excuse me?” I asked quite innocently when I’d popped my head out from under the shelf.

“That’s how I like my white-boys. On their knees at my feet.”

I tilted my head backwards to look up at who was speaking. It was a muscular and imposingly tall black guy who appeared to be about half my age. He was standing uncomfortably close, and it was a strain to hold my head raised so high, so I dropped it a little and realised his crotch was mere inches in front of my face.

“I’m just getting the last few mushrooms,” I said in a weak explanation, virtually speaking to his crotch, and still with a couple of the white-caps in my hand.

“I much prefer what I had in mind,” he continued. “You look like you were made for it.”

“I’m just …” I stuttered, realising the dark tone of his words, as I shuffled to start back onto my feet.

“No,” he barked, as he showed me the palm of his hand. “Remain as you are for a few moments longer.”

It was at that instant in time when my life would change forever. I stayed on my knees and sat back on my heels and kept my gaze fixed straight onto his crotch.

“That’s it, white-boy. Give in to it. You know you want to,” he gravelled, as he placed his huge black hand on the top of my head. “You want to see it, don’t you? See if the rumours are true?”

“No, I … its … “ I struggled for words as I flushed bright red. It was obvious to him, and anyone else watching on, that I was staring at the overtly large bulge mere inches from my face.

“Liar,” he accused. “I’ll be in here at exactly ten o’clock tomorrow morning, and if you’re here then and down on your knees waiting, we’ll both know what you are wanting.”

And as he held his hand on my head, I remained on my knees taking short raspy breaths, in shock from our unnerving exchange. But it was what he did next with his huge black hands when he placed them either side of my head which really got me rattled. He moved them back and forth causing my head to nod yes when he repeated the word “tomorrow’. And when he gave my head one final pull towards him, causing me to bow down forward, it was how I remained as he’d calmly sauntered away. …

I stayed there for several long seconds, still on my knees, my head bowed down low and my heart thumping in my chest as I dwelt on what had just happened….

“Arrogant black thug wannabe.” I thought. “Who the hell does that kid think he is, coming up to me, a 45 year old man, flaunting his obscene crotch-bulge in my face. Manhandling me with his huge black hands. Calling me boy even though he’s only half my age. Telling me I look good on my knees. Telling me that’s how he wants me ……. He’s just an obnoxious, conceited, black bully, using crude stand-over tactics to try intimidate me……….. But he had intimidated me, hadn’t he? I hadn’t said boo when he’d put his hands on me, had I? Not even when he pushed me around. I hadn’t said boo because I found I just couldn’t. Maybe because I didn’t want to. No, that’s just crazy. Don’t even think that way. He’s probably some kind of psycho. A perverted psycho with a sick twisted mind who could be capable of doing anything. And this repulsive black thug could certainly do it to me. I’d be no match for his size and strength. He’s already seen I offered no resistance to his audacious and vulgar harassment. What if he was a degenerate serial sexual predator who was scouting for fresh meat? By my inaction and total lack of resistance, I’d virtually told him I wouldn’t stop him if he picked me as his next victim. But that’s certainly not what I wanted. Definitely and assuredly not. No way. I didn’t want to fall into his perverted grasp. I didn’t want to be down on my knees at his feet. I didn’t want to see his big black cock. And I certainly didn’t want to reach out and take hold of it, guide it to my mouth and suck on it. But when he’d clamped my head in his big strong hands, I knew it could be a practice-run, a rehearsal of when he held me in place until I learnt the taste of his seed. But even if he flooded my mouth with his vile alpha-male cum, I wouldn’t swallow … at least, I don’t think I would ….. but then again … maybe it wasn’t my mouth where his seed would be entering my body…”

It was then I realised I had an erection.

………….

My wife and I have a healthy sex life, and we frequently discuss our deepest dark fantasies. They are numerous and varied, but many contain a fetish for anal, sometimes degrading and forced. Almost all are about her, and her targeted abduction for “re-education” where she’s held with no hope of escape. In the cruel grip of a “master”, she fully gives in, and is subjected to all manner of despicable violations. But sometimes, when we weave a story of her being the tied and naked captive of a sex-crazed sadistic rapist, to my shame, I get horny at thoughts of me being enslaved in the same way.

She occasionally allows me to gently “use her back door”, but that night, after I’d copiously lubed and then entered her ass, I was exceptionally … how shall I put it? ….. Vigorous and domineering.

…..

“Wow,” she declared, after I’d finished almost half an hour of ‘vigour’, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I asked with genuine concern. In my fit of mindless fervour, whilst she had her face buried in a pillow and her ass stuck up in the air, I’d pressed my hands down hard on her shoulders to hold her firmly in place as I dished out a very harsh pounding.

“No, it didn’t hurt. In fact, I came …. twice …. even though I could barely breathe. But don’t do that too often, otherwise I’ll fall behind with my housework,” she rebuked as she gave my arm a sharp slap. “No more tonight. Go to sleep.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’d didn’t mean to be so intense. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

The trouble was …. I did know what I’d been thinking.

That it was me with the lubed ass. That it was me being pinned down with my face in the pillow. That it was the young black thug with his obscenely large package who’d been vigorously doing the pounding.

……………

My wife and I awoke the next morning, our Sunday brunch day, to find the sun beaming in through the window.

“Oh look,” she exclaimed, “what a beautiful day. We must go have a pic-nick this afternoon.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “we could go for a stroll down by the river.”

My wife assessed the situation….

“After we’ve had a shower, I’ll start preparing brunch, and you can nip to the store and get us some cans of soda and some cookies and cake to take with us.”

“Yeah, No problem.”

…

When I was getting ready to go to the store, I suddenly remembered…….. “What time is it?” I called out from the bathroom.

“A quarter before ten,” she answered after a short pause.

“I’ll go after brunch then.” I called back, nervous about the timing.

“No, if you go now, I can put the drinks in the freezer for a couple of hours.”

“But … “ I started to protest.

“Look, I know what you’re like. If you don’t go now, you’ll never go. Go on, scoot.”

…

So there I was a few minutes later in my sandals, shorts and t-shirt, doing the 5 minute walk to the store. Well, at least I don’t have to go to the vegetable isle, I thought. And whatever happens, I’ve no intention of dropping down onto my knees.

…

I grabbed the top basket off the pile and headed to the cookies and cake isle. I nervously looked around, but there were only a couple of females wandering about, so I felt much more at ease than when I was walking up the street. Having placed several different packets of cookies in the basket, I headed to the soft-drinks and milk display along the far back wall. I grabbed a few cans of the usual, and then saw a sign declaring “new line”. I picked up a can, intending to read the fine print on the side, but as my hand raised the can in the air, I hadn’t noticed it was actually part of a six-pack, with one of those six-holed plastic collars holding them all together around the top. Well, the result was that two of the cans slipped out of the collar and crashed to the floor. I watched in morbid fascination as they slowly rolled, almost in unison, under the edge of the opposite shelving. I looked up and down the back isle to see if there was a shop assistant who could come to come to my aid, or indeed anyone else who had witnessed my clumsy mishap. There was no-one to be seen. Not a single person. But still I couldn’t just walk away. I’d been raised to be socially responsible, and it was ingrained. Simply walking away from a mess-up of my own making was not in my DNA. So, having double checked there was no-one around, I put the basket down and got on my hands and knees to retrieve the two cans from under the bottom shelf. It was at that very moment, with my ass in the air and my ear almost touching the floor as I peered under the shelf and with my outstretched arm flailing around in the dark depths, when I heard his gravelly voice.

“We meet again, white-boy. And you are exactly how I expected. Fully prostrate in total submission, waiting patiently for your new master.”

“No,.. I,,, its…. “ I gibbered as I froze in horror, knowing I’d been fully and irrevocably caught out.

“No need to explain, boy. We both know what you want. That’s why you’re here.”

And with this disturbing summation, and as I stayed frozen in place, I felt the weight of the sole of his shoe pressing uncomfortably hard on the side of my face.

“And we’re I no rush, are we boy? I think that you laying on the floor in the middle of a busy store is an ideal place to start your training.”

“Dear God no,” I started my first attempt at protest against this horrible black thug, “I only came here for some cookies.”

“And I know what goes well with cookies,” he said with a smirk in his voice. “Get your arm the hell out of there and lay on your back.”

He tapped the side of my head a couple of times with the sole of his shoe, then repeated, “Arm out and get on your back.”

It was obvious this young man would have no hesitation in dishing out severe physical pain to get what he wanted, so I extricated my arm from its probing search and spun around and laid flat on my back in the drinks and milk isle of the store. I looked up to see him towering over me.

“I told you I knew what went well with cookies. Lookee what I got here.” And with that, he uncurled the sealing ring from a large plastic pot of cream, then flipped off its lid, and from his high vantage he slowly started to pour. The centre of my t-shirt covered chest was the first target to feel the thin string of cold white liquid. I lay motionless and flat on my back as I felt its chilling finger trace several circles around my chest and abdomen before working its way down the full length of my left leg. Then starting at the ankle of my right leg, it traced a white sticky line up my calf, over my knee, up my thigh, and then drew a few circles around my crotch. I was laying in darkness now, hiding my humiliation and shame behind closed eye-lids. That’s why I didn’t see it coming. The cold white liquid started tickling my neck, then crept over my chin and around my cheeks, then zeroed in on my firmly closed lips.

“Open,” the black kids gravelly voice barked.

I kept my lips clamped together with my eyes firmly shut as I shuddered my head, pleading ‘no’.

“Open, white-boy. Taste my cream.” And when he gave the side of my chest a few hard pokes with the point of his shoe, my lips parted to allow the white stream to enter.

“Good boy,” he gloated, as the cold white fluid started to fill the cavity of my open mouth, making me cough and splutter as I fought for breath.

“Gotta get used to it, white-boy. Lots more to come in the future. But lucky for you, that special cream will be nice and warm.”

I continued to gurgle and spit as I tried to expel the excess which was making it almost impossible to breathe.

“Swallow it, white-boy. Swallow it down. It’s a procedure you’ll have to get used to.”

And I did swallow. I had to. Some of it at least, otherwise I may have ended up drowning.

“Just look at you, boy. You’re a total mess. We’d better get some of that cleaned up.”

And with that unnerving statement, causing me to open my eyes to tear-blurred vision, I saw his dark hulking figure stoop down and pluck a can from my very own basket.

“This should do just nicely,” he said, “It resembles what will happen in the future.”

I then heard the peel-click of a ring-pull, before the cool amber fluid of ginger beer started glugging from on high onto my cream-spattered prostrate body.

“Just like piss”, he said with a laugh, as he poured the glugging amber fluid up and down the full length of my body. “I always piss on my white-boys before I send them packing.”

I started to shiver and shake from the coolness of the liquid as it soaked through my t-shirt, shorts and jocks, and onto my goose-pimpled skin.

Just then, I heard a “What the hell……?”

“Time for me to go,” said the gravelly voice of the young black thug who’d just used me like a cream-pie and toilet. “But I’m certain we’ll meet again soon.”

“Very soon,” he added ominously over his shoulder as he calmly sauntered away.

……..

“Are you OK?” asked a very nervous and very pimply young guy wearing the store’s uniform as be looked down at me. “What happened?”

“I tripped and fell is all,” I lied as I lifted my torso out of the pool of ginger beer and propped myself up on my elbows.

“It looked like he was doing it deliberate, like he was assaulting you or something.”

“Well, it was a bit like that, but he was helping me really,” I said weakly.

“It’s just that,” he said in short considered phrases, “If I had to testify in court ……… and I was cross-examined under oath ……….. and they asked me what I saw ………… if I saw anything out of the ordinary …….. I may have to tell them …”

And with that, he shifted his gaze from my tear bleary eyes and nodded his head straight at my crotch. I too then followed his gaze to the front of my shorts, where there was an obvious, lewd tenting high bulge.

“Gotta go,” I snapped, urgently wanting to break the awkward moment. I grabbed up my basket and squelched my way to the check-out and paid with a very sticky credit-card.

……………….

“What on earth happened to you?” gasped my wife as she greeted me on our house front veranda.

“Long story. I’ll tell you later,” I deflected, buying for time, hoping I’d think of something plausible in the meantime.

“Well, you’re not coming in here like that. Go round in back and strip off in the laundry. Then you’d better scoot and shower all that muck off before I serve breakfast.”

…….

The warm water sluiced over my body, washing the sticky sweet smell down the drain. At least it was sweet, I mused. What if it were the bitter acrid smell of piss? His piss. After I’d been on my knees at his feet. After his big black hands had held me in place as I swallowed his alpha-male seed. After his softening cock slid out of my mouth. After he’d unleashed a stream of vile yellow onto my prone, naked body as I lay like a dog at his feet. Stamping his authority. Branding me with his essence. Telling me he knew from the first moment he saw me that I’d end up with his cock in my mouth. That I’d be swallowing his cum. Telling me I am a worthless cum-bucket and toilet. A pathetic weak slave who craves his mistreatment, as his big black cock anointed me with his hot, stinking discharge … before he kicked me naked and ruined out into the street.

“You gonna be much longer? Breakfast is nearly ready.”

Her call back to earth broke my hypnotic spell. My soapy hand ceased its sordid, slow stroking.

…….

The next couple of days and nights were almost normal. We had our Sunday afternoon pic-nick down by the river. That evening we watched a couple of movies. We kissed goodnight and fell asleep.

Monday and Tuesday were off out to work as usual for me, whilst my wife stayed home doing her dressmaking and altering for a local company who employs her as a home-worker sub-contractor.

It was Tuesday evening when I arrived home from work when events took a sinister turn.

……

“A guy called at the house today, hun. He said he was a security guard from the mall. And he certainly looked like a security guard. He was a huge young black guy. Said he wanted to see you about some incident which occurred there. Was that when you came home all covered in juice or whatever it was? You never did tell me what happened.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. It was nothing really, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“Well he’s calling back later this evening when you’re home. I told him it was just me here during the day. I know you’ve told me not tell anyone I’m here on my own, but he is a security guard and all, so I figured he’d be trustworthy.”

“I’m sure he is,” I stated, not wanting to make her worried. It was me who was worried. “I’ll sort it all out when he gets here.”

……

Sure enough, just after seven, there was a loud knock on the front door. My heart sank. I didn’t really need this. When it was in my mind and far away at the mall, it was erotically amusing. But now physically knocking on my home front door, it had become a horrible nightmare.

I swung the door open to find not one, but three big young black guys standing on my front porch, non of whom were my accoster from the store. I took a big gulp of dry air.

“Can I help you?” I asked, trying to hide the anxiety of having found three complete strangers, three huge, young, black strangers, standing on my doorstep.

“We can help you,” replied the one who was front and centre. “Are you expecting a visit from some-one purporting to be a security guard?”

My wife, who was now standing at my side, asserted, “He is a security guard. He told me so.”

The three guys looked at each other and smiled a knowing smile. I knew that look. They’d just found a sucker who was about to be sucked in.

“He’s coming to see my husband about some incident at the store. He said he had some mug-shots he wanted to show him. He really was from the mall.”

I wanted to tell my wife to shut the fuck up. Stop talking, you stupid, naïve bitch, is what I wanted to scream. Stop digging, or you’ll bury us both.

“He’s not a guard, sweetheart. We are the real security guards,” said one of the trio as he briefly flashed a shiny silver badge. “We are part of a small private agency who sub-contract our services to whoever pays us, or can’t pay us, as the case may be,” he said, glancing at his two companions, and causing a wry chuckle amongst themselves. “He used to work for us,” he continued, “but he went rogue. So, we are here to let you know we will look after you for free.”

Again, he glanced at his comrades, and again they gave quiet guttural chuckles in response.

For one horrible moment, I thought my wife was going to invite them in. Then I could see her invite unleashing some kind of vicious home invasion where they took turns to beat the crap out of me as a side-distraction from spending the rest of the time taking turns to rape the crap out of my wife. My young, pretty, and very petite Vietnamese wife. Then my mind went into over-drive. If we did specifically invite them in, then anything they do may not be classed as a crime. That would be an open invitation for them to come back anytime they wanted. And what if the news spread through “the hood’, and dozens of big black guys started coming to our door, knowing they’d be immune from the law. And what if they enjoyed the unbridled violations upon my wife and myself so much that some decided to permanently move in. As I gave my head a violent shake to expel such crazy thoughts from my brain, my wife had started to speak…

“But it was him who came here. How did you guys know where to come?”

At least one of us is trying to think straight, I thought to myself.

“We have our sources, Miss. Security guards have many contacts, and we sure like to keep in close contact, ain’t that right boys?” he said, causing another round of wry chuckles as confirmation.

“Well, what do you propose?” I asked, hoping to gain the initiative. I reasoned I could only deflect them if I knew where they were coming from.

The one who had been standing at the back, furthest away from the door, stepped forward, and lifting and tapping a large brief-case in his hand, he confidently started to speak… “We can only get him off our backs if we had some solid proof he’s been impersonating a registered security officer. Then we can serve him with a court order, and he’d know that if he broke it, he’d go back to gaol. And quite frankly, sir, with his prior charges, it could be for a very long time,” the young man expounded, clearly highly intelligent and articulate.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, not having expected all that, but still curious for more information. “And just what were his prior convictions?”

“Well, in truth, sir,” continued the articulate one, “most weren’t exactly convictions, just charges, which he wriggled out of on technicalities. And what they were for, well, I’d rather not say,” as he gave a very slight but very definite nod in the direction of my wife.

“OK,” I acknowledge his desire to not give explicit details about his exploits. I’d been subjected to some of them first hand. “But what were the technicalities?”

“Oh … er … “ he considered before speaking. “Inadmissible evidence. Withdrawal of accusation. Inconsistencies in prosecuting testimonies … things like that. That is why we want your help, sir. With the good graces of yourself and your good lady here, we could shut this evil scumbag down for good. He tried to con your good lady here. At least he deserves some retribution for that.”

“Oh, I don’t know ….” I started. This had “can-o-worms” written all over it, and it was something I didn’t want to open.

“What do you want us to do?” chipped in my wife, over-riding my reluctance. There was no denying there was excitement in her voice and was up for whatever they suggested.

One of the guys pulled out a mini- video camera from his pocket, and with a flick of his finger a small red light appeared at the front.

“Whatever we do will have to be above board and fully recorded. Is that OK with you?”

“I guess so,” I said, still unsure I wanted to be part of this.

“First things first, then, to get the ball rolling,” said the one who was front and centre, “Is it OK if we all step inside?”

“Of course, of course, come right in,” breezed my excited wife into the camera’s small lens as she stepped to one side and flourished her arm, “Come y’all in and sit down, You’re all welcome.”

I sighed in despair at her rash and ill-considered over-ride. And I’m sure one of the guys dug another in the ribs with his elbow as in turn their broadly grinning faces filed in through the door …. straight past my wife who’d invited them in … straight past me and into our home.

……………………………………

Our three visitors filed in the lounge room, and my wife ushered them to all sit together on the long sofa we have positioned opposite our big TV, then my wife and I sat in the two other arm-chairs.

They introduced themselves, but I am useless with names, and forgot them almost immediately. But when they said the one who they were trying to serve with a court-order, the one who had made a fool of me at the store, was called Jakub, his name became etched on my brain.

“I’ve brought some of the evidence we have against him with me, if you’d like to see it,” said the brief-case carrying articulate one. “It’s on a memory-stick I have here with me.”

“It’s not cctv footage from the mall, is it, because ….?” I blurted in a panic. I knew what that footage may contain.

“No, no, nothing like that. This is much more, shall we say, personal and damning. It shows you what we are up against. It is a bit painful to watch, but certainly sets the scene for what we have in mind.”

Even though his words were cryptic and vague, they were also mildly intriguing. Still, I didn’t really want to get involved. But again, my wife took the lead.

“If it’s on a stick, you can plug it straight into the TV. It’s one of the reasons we bought it .. to watch our own recordings on a big screen,” she chirped helpfully.

So several moments later, with everything set up and our seating positions moved around so that my wife and I were the only ones on the viewing sofa with two guys standing behind us, one with the remote-control, and the other guy sat in an armchair, the big screen flickered into life.

The first chilling image was a full-face close-up of Jakub taking up the whole screen, with his head on one side as he leered a big grin into the camera. But as his head moved back and out of the way, the back-ground came fully into view. It was a domestic lounge room, similar to ours, with a carpet and lounge chairs and a side-board. But what was immediately obvious was that the furniture had been pushed back to the walls to create a bigger open space in the middle, and that is where the shocking scene was now focused. A white man and woman, both aged in about their mid-40’s, were kneeling side-by-side, and although they were hunched over with an air of defeat, they were both looking up into the camera. He was naked, except for his under-pants, and she wore only bra and panties. Although there were distinct signs of torment and anguish in their faces, they both seemed to be forcing a fake smile. And stood one either side just behind them, with their tattooed arms folded, were two t-shirted big black guys wearing masks.

The scene panned out to take a wider angled view of Jakub standing in front of the clearly overwrought and terrified yet bizarrely smiling middle aged couple on their knees.

“Tell the camera what you want,” Jakub said, as he bent down and spoke into the face of the kneeling lady.

“I want to be gang-banged, sir,” her trembling voice croaked into the camera.

“Be more polite … and convincing ..” he said back at her.

“I want to be gang-banged, please sir. It’s what I want.” her trembling voice said more clearly.

“And why do you want this to happen?”

“It’s my fantasy, sir.”

“And what is your fantasy?”

“To be gang-banged, sir.”

“No, no, no,” rebuked Jakub with a degree of annoyance. “What is your proper full fantasy. Tell it to the camera like you told me over the phone.”

“But I did no such.. ” she started, thrusting her head forwards as if to vehemently protest an untruth.

“Tell your full fantasy to the camera,” he growled sharply, cutting her off and shifting his stance to be mere inches in front of the cowering man. She anxiously glanced across, then back to the camera and spoke slowly and mechanically as if by rote, like her words had been fully rehearsed.

“I want to be brutally gang-raped by a clamouring horde of big scary black men,” she said flatly.

“Ah, that’s better,” said Jakub with an air of triumph. “You get that?” he said back at the camera. ”And what will be your safe-word?” he continued.

“I don’t have a safe-word,” the terrified woman rasped, “I want to be gang-raped for hours.”

“Beautiful,” exclaimed Jakub, as his hands slapped together in the clap of a sealed deal.

…..

It was at this point that my wife and I looked at each other. This was not what I had expected, and it was certainly affecting us both.

“Where did you get this?” I uneasily asked, and the one with the remote froze the action.

“It’s part of our collection of about twenty. Pretty good, huh?”

“I wouldn’t call it good. It’s appalling,” I stated, not hiding my feelings. I felt protective of my wife.

“What would you call it, sweetheart?” said one of the guys who was standing behind us, as he dropped his big black hand down onto her shoulder.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she answered quite flatly. “How long does it go on for?”

I looked at her in sheer consternation. What on earth was she thinking? Did she understand the gravity of such a provocative and leading question?

“Quite a while longer, but we’ve got all night, so it’s best if we all sit and keep watching. That’s OK with you, isn’t it, boy?”

And with that statement, I felt a hand slap down hard on my shoulder, and as the screen flickered back into action I felt no option but to nod my head yes.

….

“Well if that’s what you want,” Jakub said, in accord with the woman’s request to be gang-raped for hours. “We’d better have you up in the bedroom.”

And with that bland statement, two other big black guys wearing figure hugging swim-trunks walked in from off camera and taking hold with one on each elbow, hoisted her up onto her feet.

“Wanna come and watch?” sneered Jakub into the cowering man’s face. “Oh, I forgot,” he continued, answering his own question. “You get your pleasure in other ways, don’t you, boy? We have other delights in store for you.”

And with that, Jakub raised his shoe and shoved the kneeling man hard in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards with his arms and legs splayed out, which caused a guttural laugh from the two masked black guys. These two then both bent down and grabbing an arm apiece, hoisted him up onto his feet, as in the background the struggling woman was dragged out through a door.

“Into the kitchen with this piece of shit. Tie him down over the table, but don’t strip him naked. Well leastways, not ‘till I’ve made his white dicklet grow hard.”

….

It was at this point that the action froze again, and the one holding the remote began to speak.

“Do you see now what we are up against? This is what he does. He finds some sap couple who allows his cronies to come into their homes, then he comes in and joins them and makes the whiteys dance to his tune. You’d never let strangers into your home, would you, boy?” he said, clapping me quite hard on the shoulder.

“No,” I asserted with a big gulp of dry air.

“And you certainly wouldn’t let those strangers re-arrange your furniture, would you, boy?” he said, as the one in the arm chair stood up and thrust it backwards to the wall with his arms as he did so.

“No …. Look, I ….” I started, having seen clearly exactly where this was now going.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barked, cutting me off. His body was shaking with adrenaline aggression. “You, bitch,” he barked again, addressing my wife, “What did Jakub say to you this morning?”

My wife sat still in dumb-stuck silence, clearly too shocked to speak…

“Well, bitch, what did he say?” he angrily prompted, tapping his foot to urge on her answer.

“He said he was a security guard from the mall,” she quavered.

“Yes, yes, you said that already … and?”

“That he wanted to speak to my husband and that he had some mug-shots.”

“Dumb bitch,” he mumbled, then barked, “And what else did he say, what did he tell you?”

“That … that …” she stuttered, having realised that what she was about to reveal was very damning and prophetic. “That there was a gang of black thugs operating in our area, and not to let anyone into our home… Unless …”

“Unless what, you dumb bitch?” he cruelly urged, sensing that he had smelt blood.

“Unless I actually wanted a rape-gang to come into my home,” she said, still with a quaver.

“And ?’ he pressed.

“Unless that’s what I wanted, you know, to get myself gang-raped.”

I looked at my wife in utter shock and disbelief. Why the hell hadn’t she said all this to me sooner? I struggled to get my head around what had just happened in my own lounge-room.

The big black guy continued his torment. “So, despite that information, you still invited strangers into your home. Black strangers. Big black strangers. Several of them. Several of us. You invited us in. You know what that means, don’t you bitch?”

I knew.

……………………….

Watching Jakub set up the camera on the tripod was the worst part. He seemed so calm and methodical. Cock-sure black asshole. I’ll get you for this, I thought, even if it takes the rest of my life. But there was nothing I could do for now. I was on my knees in my underpants. I glanced across at the slim, delicate figure of my wife kneeling next to me with her head bowed down low. I couldn’t help but think how deliciously enticing she was in her skimpy orange bra and panties. But I knew what was to come. At least I assumed what was coming, and in a perverse way it was pleasing that she looked so sexy.

One of the two masked black guys who stood behind us tapped her on her back with the point of his shoe.

“Wakey, wakey, Yoko Bone-o. Look up at the camera and smile. You too”, he said, as I also felt a dig in my backbone.

“Welcome to my world,” Jakub breezed with a nauseating air of satisfaction. “In a short while, all your dreams will come true. But for now, I want you to introduce yourselves. What are your names?”

Neither of us spoke for a few seconds, and as Jakub asked, “Well?” I simultaneously felt a prod in my back.

“My name is Barry, but you can call the cops and tell them you’re a cunt,” I said with a rush of total defiance.

“Very good. I like a bit of spirit,” he breezed as he gestured his arm, and I received a hard thwack on the back of my head with something very solid and very painful. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“My name is Barry.”

“And you, sweetheart … blossom of the orient … what do they call you?”

My wife knelt silent, smiling weakly at the camera, and her only movement was a very faint tremble.

“Come on, darling, you can tell us. We may be strangers, but I’m aching to get to know you … get to know you intimately, if you know what I mean,” he taunted, causing a ripple of chuckles from our ‘guards’.

Still my wife didn’t speak, like she’d been struck dumb with trauma, as she silently kneeled and shivered.

“Not to worry,” Jakub conceded. “Some women are like that. They get so excited at the thought of being fucked for hours by dozens of enormous black cocks that they simply lose their voice. But you’re going to have to say something soon, darling, because this is the start of the fun part. Did you willingly invite us in Barry?” he asked as he menacingly took a couple of steps towards me. “Well?”

“Yes,” I answered weakly.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I said more clearly.

“Better … now lets do it properly this time. Tell the camera you invited us in.” as I felt a sharp prod in my back, and my wife also emitted a faint “Ow!”

I took a deep breath and looked into the camera and spoke as clear as I could.

“These gentlemen knocked at our door and asked to come in, and we said ‘come in and welcome.’”

“Excellent, excellent,” Jakub oozed. “Now for you, you stupid dumb bitch. And for the sake of your husband here, you’d better get the story right the first time. Don’t worry, he’s not going to interrupt, are you boy? So, come on girly, tell him what we discussed,” and with that I felt a sharp sting in the back of my neck, and couldn’t suppress an unmistakeable “Aaaggh!”

My wife looked at me and I looked at her and I gave a slight nod of my head.

“I agreed for you to come here tonight so I could give my husband as much pleasure as possible,” my wife announced to the camera in a sudden burst of clarity and calmness.

“Yes, yes, good, good,” encouraged Jakub, “and like I explained, how will you do this?”

“When you showed me the video of you with my husband, you said it proved that when a strong alpha-male humiliates a much weaker man, they will both become sexually aroused. The weaker man knows the alpha-male can overpower him and use him for sexual gratification and even mate with him should he so wish. The weaker man can’t stop himself becoming sexually aroused, because it’s natures way of preparing his body so that when the the alpha-male does whatever he pleases, the weaker man will also feel great pleasure. Because it is my duty to give my husband as much pleasure as I can, I want him to be totally humiliated so he will feel total sexual satisfaction. I now understand that him being forced to watch as several alpha males mate with me would be the ultimate in humiliation, and therefore the most pleasure I could possibly give him.”

“That, my Oriental princess, was a thing of beauty. Bravo, bravo,” he praised, causing our two henchmen guards to give a small round of applause.

“But … “ I started. I don’t know exactly what I was going to say, but it wouldn’t have been friendly.

“Nah, nah, nah,” he cut me off and shouted me down. “I’ve heard enough from you, white boy. I’m anxious to get to know your precious jewel here. You heard the lady, so let’s get this show on the road.”

“No, I …” I started again, as my vision was becoming unmistakeably more blurred. I felt another sting in the back of my neck, and this one knocked me out within seconds.

…………….

I woke up with a dry mouth and a headache. It took me a short while to work out where I was and what was happening. I blinked and focused and I realised with consternation the bizarre situation I was in. I’d been tied spread-eagle, bound hand and foot, in the gloom of the underside our queen-sized bed. I was still wearing only my underpants as I lay on my back, splayed out on the bedroom thin carpet. I struggled to focus on the cross-rails which support our mattress, being they were mere inches above my face. Then I realised they were bouncing. They were definitely moving up and down in steady oscillations, with the biggest downward bounce at the centre of the bed almost tapping my crotch. Then I heard faint moaning. The rhythmic carnal moans of a woman being thrust into with a constant and slow steady tempo. My foggy daze began to clear. I joined the obvious pieces of the jigsaw. A woman was on top of the mattress I was tied under, and she was being fucked at a constant steady pace. And it was causing her to emit moans. Carnal moans. Animal moans. Erotic moans. She certainly wasn’t complaining. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. I daren’t. The obvious was too painful to think about.

But as I lay tied and obliged to listen. I did start to think … as the low rhythmic moans continued. Were they coming from my wife? If they were, then for sure someone was fucking her. Was it Jakub, or one of our other big black visitors? Either way, it would be a big black guy with a big black cock who was fucking her with constant deep thrusts. I knew a huge cock would surely stretch her tight sex to the limit. And its monstrous intrusion would surely compel her sex lips to vex back and forth in synchronization with its constant and steady penetrations. Whatever is happening, she is moaning and seeming to enjoy it. My wife certainly enjoys sex. If she was subjected to the sustained deep thrusting of a huge erect cock, then for sure she’d eventually cum. And if the relentless abrasion caused her engorged clitoris to emerge from its protective cute hood, then things would only get worse. I was well acquainted with that love bud and knew the more it was worked and the harsher the treatment, the more wanton and abandoned she became.

And as I lay listening to this woman being screwed, I realised I had an erection. I also realised it meant I couldn’t call out and bring attention to my shameful state. So I lay still and quietly listened, as words began to be spoken.

……

“You love this, don’t you babe?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to come soon. Plant more black seed in your hot little box.”

“Mmmm.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it babe?”

“Yes.”

“I love fucking you when you are like this, all sloppy and wet. Does it feel good to you?”

“Mmmm.”

“Do you think you’ll be pregnant by now?”

“Yes.”

“I think so too. All us horny guys and 4 hours of fucking is sure to have knocked you up.”

“Mmmm.”

“It’s what you wanted though, isn’t it? That’s why you took your diaphragm out.”

“Yes.”

“So you could complete the humiliation of your husband by having a black baby.”

“Yes.”

“What if it is a boy? A big black mean bastard with a big cock like mine. You gonna let him fuck you?”

“Maybe.”

“But if he’s not your husbands, he’ll be like an outsider who lives in your house, so he’ll definitely want to fuck you. Maybe even want to fuck him. What if one day he asks for a mother’s kiss, then pushes his tongue deep down your throat? You think you’d like that?”

“Maybe.”

“If he French-kisses you hard when he has you pined against the wall, I bet that’d make you horny.”

“Yes.”

“So horny, you’d be down on your knees in no-time. When he puts his cock in your mouth, will you suck it just like you did mine?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll end up with his cock in your pussy. You know that, don’t you, babe?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe plant his seed in you. Another black bastard for your husband to pay for.”

“Mmmm.”

“I’m going to come in you now. My black baby seed needs a womb. You ready?”

“Yes.”

With that, the bed-slats started bouncing in earnest as I lay still with a straining erection.

The slats were bouncing so hard they were tapping the tip of my cock, causing unwanted feelings. I tried to reset my posture, but I was tied too outstretched to move out of the way. The tapping became knocking, harder and faster, with each bump bringing me closer to orgasm. My wife was being violated, yet I was aroused, and worse, the violator was on track to make me cum. Whoever it was, I hated him, but that didn’t stop me thrusting my pelvis higher to seek harder bumping and a quicker release for my throbbing and bursting erection. As I was nearing the brink, I couldn’t hold it in any longer …. I let out a moan..

The creaking and bouncing stopped almost immediately.

An upside-down face appeared, peering at me from the edge of the bed. A black, grinning face I did not recognise. My God, I thought. How many of them are there?

“He’s awake,” he informed someone out of my view. “He’s awake,” he repeated as a loud call, informing others who were obviously not close by.

The door handle rattled, and with a flurry of footsteps, several grinning black faces were peering at me from different angles.

“Get him out of there,” a familiar voice barked. “I want to check his jocks.”

What seemed like a forest of hands untied me, then I was grasped by the wrist and ankle of the same side and summarily dragged out from my hidey-hole.

“I thought so,” said the familiar voice, as I felt fingers pull the waistband at the front of my jocks. “Sopping wet with pre-cum. I told you this piece of shit would get off from us taking turns at his wife. The weak slime-bag even got hard when I pretended to piss on him.”

“No, please, I…….” I started to gibber, which was immediately drowned out by coarse laughing.

“Take him to the bathroom. I’ll give you a demonstration. And you, bitch. Stay where you are. I’ve not finished with you yet.”

And as I was being dragged out of the bedroom, I heard my wife call out at my lynch mob …

“Humiliate him good. Shove a cock up his ass and make him scream if you want. But please, will some of you guys come back soon and finish me off. I really do want to have a black baby.”

………….

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